


The Do-Me Decimal System (Derry Public Library)

by clownhell



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Dont Let The Pigeon Use Your Library Card!, Eddie Kaspbrak & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Eventual Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Librarian Mike Hanlon, M/M, Mike Hanlon Deserves Nice Things, Slow Burn, The Losers Club Are Not Heterosexual (IT), antique shop owners Stan and Patty, ben hanscom is a lumberjack god, ben’s ass is fat but his heart is fatter, beverly marsh & mike hanlon are best friends, lesbian fashion disaster richie tozier, librarian bev marsh, librarian technician eddie kaspbrak, the author works in a library
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29346633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clownhell/pseuds/clownhell
Summary: The posters on the entrance of the library read:Welcome to the Derry Public Library!VOLUNTEERS WANTED!!!apply inside at the front desk :DCome join our little family!FREE BOOKS!(only if you pay your overdue fines)CROCHET CLUB MEETINGSHAVE BEEN MOVED TO TUESDAYS AT 11 AM
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	The Do-Me Decimal System (Derry Public Library)

**Author's Note:**

> oh hello, fancy seeing you here. welcome to my Baby, this bad boy has been stewing around in my noggin for Quite Some Time and with some help Here It Is!!!! 
> 
> id like 2 thank my twitter friends for the Support of my writing and for their enthusiasm ilyasm
> 
> id also like 2 thank my Editor / beta reader bryce (@trashmouth4sale on twitter) for Fixing My Bullshit 
> 
> if u want to follow me on twt my user is @clownhell2 where i share my Thots and Feelings

Prologue 

November, 2018

  
  


Outside the Derry Public Library, a little flyer reading ‘Volunteers Wanted!’ blew in the wind from where it was cemented with water on the sewer grate, through the air, eventually landing right smack on the face of one Richie Tozier. The startled “Ah!” and karate chops to the air did not help him get the wet paper off, much to his dismay, but they did attract the attention of a man walking into the building. Peeling the orange paper from his now-soaked-in-gutter-water-and-gravel face, he turned to see where the angelic laughter came from. Through his smudgy glasses, he could see a tall man with a million dollar smile holding the door open, presumably for Richie. He gratefully followed the Mystery Man into the library, where he was immediately hit by warmth, a nice contrast to the cold, dreary weather he previously stood in. 

“The men’s room is to your left,” Mr. Dude With The Liquid Gold Voice directed. Richie nodded in thanks as he pushed into the restroom to clean off his unwanted parking lot facial and glasses. 

Struggling with the World’s Worst Brown Paper Towels for a few minutes was not the most dignified Richie had ever been, but he definitely has had worse Monday afternoons, eventually clearing the lenses of their gravely-ness and also his face. His hair was soaked and plastered to his evolving five-head, which prompted the brilliant idea to bend in half with his noggin under the hand dryer, spinning slowly like a Nerdy Caveman Rotisserie Chicken until his whole head was sufficiently hot and hair was slightly drier than when he had began. 

When he emerged from the Little Boy’s Room, he let his eyes wander around the moderately-sized, yet cozy, library. In front of him, the help desk had three computers with very distinct styles of upkeep and decoration. The rightmost had all sorts of cute trinkets and multicolored pens scattered about the workspace, the middle desk was mostly tidy but had a charming mess piled in the middle of a paper tray, stickers on the rear of the monitor with little phrases like  _ Read!  _ and  _ Don’t Let The Pigeon Use Your Library Card! _ . The far left was neatly coordinated with matching organizers and stationary; the thing that stood out the most to Richie was a cat Post-it note dispenser. It didn’t look like it belonged there, but who is he to say?

Richie allowed his vision to take him further to the left into the colorful children’s section. He could tell that the kids were the heart and soul of this little library: pictures drawn by children adorned the walls and brought life into the place, fun little chairs and stools were spread in a circle for storytime, a mother kneeled next to a boy who was yanking every book his chubby little fingers could grab. Richie smiled.

Turning back to the desk in front of him, he could finally see the angel man in all his glory: brilliant smile, tall and gorgeous, wearing a most likely handknit sweater, and corduroy pants. As Richie got closer, he could read the name tag displayed on Mr. Handsome’s chest:  _ Mike Hanlon, Head Librarian.  _

“I see you got our Help Wanted ad,” Mr. Hanlon laughed politely from behind the circulation desk. “You interested?” 

“Yeah, actually, my therapist said I should do volunteer work to try and reintegrate myself with the rest of society,” Richie replied, his voice turning Poorly British at the end. 

“Wonderful, I’ll have someone over here help you fill out an application,” Mike nodded understandingly.

“Thank you, Mr. Hanlon,” Richie said while he looked around the nearly empty library.

“Mike.” 

“Huh?” He turned to face the man behind the desk.

“Call me Mike.” Mr. Hanlon- Mike smiled. Richie smiled back.

After a beat, he turned to the back room, toward which he hollered out a sing-songy  _ Bev! _ This was followed by a thud and a woman with the most Orange hair ever walking out. She was dressed like a pirate (?) with gold jewelry on her ears, neck, and fingers, a white billowing shirt, and badass eye makeup. She was  _ easily _ the most fashionable person Richie had ever met (that isn’t saying much, but the sentiment is there).

Unbeknownst to Richie, his mouth was gaping open in awe at Natasha Lyonne But In Pirates Of The Caribbean. She chuckled and sat down at the desk. Her name tag confirmed she was, indeed, Bev. Tucking a strand of short hair behind her ear, she began to type like a hacker in one of those sci-fi movies. 

“Do you have a library card?” Bev asked. 

With a fumble of the pockets, Richie whipped out his shark wallet, which housed his Library card that hadn’t been used since high school. He swiped it in the card reader, which then produced a foul  _ Beep  _ from Bev’s computer. 

“Alright, Mister Richard Wentworth Tozier, it looks like your card has not been renewed in a  _ while _ . In order to become a volunteer you need an active account — would you like to renew yours?” 

“Yes, please.”

She typed for a moment, clicked her tongue, and with a dramatic flick of the hand, she pulled a sheet from the bin beside her. 

“Just fill this out for me please.” She grabbed a pen with a pom pom decorating the top from the little school bus mug beside her and smacked it on top of the paper now laying in front of him.

Richie looked over the form and began filling it out once he knew what he was signing. He made that mistake once — never again. Once the renewal form for his library card was sufficiently filled with his chicken scratch, Bev took it back to continue typing; meanwhile, Richie was attempting to land the pen like a rocket ship back into the cup. Mike’s small smile beamed in Richie’s side view, producing a shallow dimple on his left cheek. 

Pulling another sheet from beside her and sliding it across the counter, Bev informed him that he would be contacted by email unless stated otherwise, and he should be hearing back from them within a few days about volunteer training. He took a minute to glance over the contents of what he would be doing when her voice reappeared.

“I’m pulling a wild card and guessing you went to school here?” Bev asked, leaning to the side of the monitor. 

“Yeah, I grew up here, graduated in ’08 — moved away for college on the west coast, spent too many years _Party Rockin’_ , had a nervous breakdown a few months ago, decided I should probably move back for the sake of my being, and voila.” He curtsied with a flourish.

“No shit? I graduated in ’08 too, so did Eddie our Library Technician —

“Bev, language,” Mike reminded her politely, for what Richie could imagine was the thousandth time. He was sitting at his computer, sorting through the sticker bin from the front of the counter.

“Sorry.” She made a  _ whoops  _ face and continued, “— and so did Stan, who works next door with his wife — they own the antique shop and are the definition of Love.” 

“Wait, Stan.. Stan Uris?”

“Yep.” Bev said, popping the P.

“Me and that motherfucker were in Boy Scouts together! I remember he blamed me for all the dicking around when  _ actually  _ most of the things we did were His idea. I always got in trouble because no one would ever believe Sweet Stanley, who enjoyed watching Birds over playing Tony Hawk Pro Skater, would ever cause such trouble. God, I miss him.” On the word  _ motherfucker _ he glanced towards Mike who was pretending he didn’t hear it.

“Yeah, he was in my homeroom and math classes all throughout high school— wasn’t your mom the guidance counselor? Insisted we call her Mrs. Maggie so she’d seem cooler?” Bev asked, cocking an eyebrow although she already knew the answer.

“The bane of my existence, yes.” Richie nodded, “She meant well. But when my sister was in high school she made  _ Everyone  _ call her Maggie. No ‘Mrs.’ even though she was married, just Maggie. Eventually the principal had to say  _ Look, Mrs. Tozier, we appreciate what you do here but like you are a Whole Ass Adult. Please use some sort of salutation. Please. _ ” 

“So  _ that’s  _ why the sign above her door had duct tape over her last name… we thought she was just bonkers.” The gears in her head finally clicked. 

This time it was Richie’s turn to pop the P in  _ Yep.  _

“Small world, huh?”

“Incredibly.”

“Anyway, Mikey here was homeschooled so we didn’t know each other from school, we met when I almost hit him with my car.” Bev made a kissy face at Mike and he playfully rolled his eyes.

“Serves me n Mr. Chips right for being Law Abiding Citizens, those pesky sidewalks are nothing but trouble,” he responds, putting a sticker on Bev’s forehead. She is now adorned with a Big Bird. It sits proudly right smack in the middle of her head. 

They chatted for hours, only stopping when a patron needed assistance. At one point Bev was wheezing with laughter about a college story Richie told, which made a Middle-Aged Woman come over and ask them to keep it down because It Is A Library. Mike apologized and waited for the woman to resume her book before hiding his face behind his computer and snorting. 

When Richie’s back started to ache in such a way that Stretching With Decency was impossible due to the obscene noises that would escape him, he knew it was time to leave this odd little sanctuary. He said his goodbyes to his new friends, their phone numbers nestled deep in his contacts app, and for the first time in probably years Richie felt content. 

After holding the door for an elderly woman, he skipped down the little stairs leading to the parking lot. Hands fumbling for his keys, he made it to his car; this time the parking lot granted him safe passage and a Paper-Soaked-In-Dirty-Ass-Water-Free face. 

Pulling out of the Library parking lot Richie smiled.

Maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all. 

Maybe he was gonna be ok.

  
  


“Okay, so, Shelving 101.” Bev put one hand on the cart separating the two of them, the other hand outstretched with the third sheet of paper she had given him that day. This new paper had  **_SHELVING_ ** on the top in Comic Sans with several bullet points below pointing out different procedures for various items.

Richie took the sheet as she began her enthusiastic spiel outlining the Dewey Decimal System. He read it front to back three times before she was finished describing what the first 100 numbers meant. 

He tried to actively listen, he really did. Knowing where to put shit is important if you are gonna be working in a library; that's, like, the main thing you’ll be doing. Unfortunately, god love her, Bev was boring him to death. And if Richie learned anything from having unmedicated ADHD for Twenty Fucking Years — it was how to look attentive while having the smoothest brain possible.

_ Why is it the Dewey Decimal System? Who the fuck is Dewey? Isn’t he that one duck from Ducktales — wait, which one was he, was he the one in blue or was he the green one I feel like he was the green one. Who names their child Dewey is it short for Dewbert or something, Deweth? Dewde like Dude but for fancy people? Speaking of weird Ducktales names how fuckin awesome is the name Launchpad Mcquack —  _

“... the 741s are where the graphic novels and mangas are; each age group has their own separate sections for that type and it’s usually near the nonfiction for that age group, too.” At this point Richie had completely zoned out — eyes unfocused, no thoughts head empty; the human equivalent of the DVD logo bouncing on screen. 

“The 900s is where shit gets interesting, to me at least, I love history,” Bev rambled, clearly not noticing Richie’s absence. He had moved past  _ Ducktales  _ and was now thinking of how people discovered glass. 

_ Who thought, ‘ _ Hey let’s throw some fucking sand into a fire, ooh look its Goopy can we put this on our Houses?’ _ Was it by accident? _

“... and that about covers it!” Bev finished with a grin. “So, you think you’re ready to start shelvin’?” 

“Huh?” Richie said, blinking for the first time in minutes. His eyes felt 

“I think you broke him,” Mike chimed in from the circulation desk, not looking away from his work on the computer in front of him. 

“It’s his fault, he let me keep going,” Bev mock-complained.

“It’s his first day. What’s he gonna do? Act like a dick?” Mike responded with a smirk.

“Whoa, Mikecycle, language.” Fake abhorrence tinted her voice. 

“How dare  _ you  _ tell  _ Me  _ what to do, Bevrolet.” 

Bev stuck her tongue out at Mike With Love, dramatically slamming her hands on the cart handles, pulling the cart with her as she walked backwards.

The kids section was most appetizing to Richie’s Melted Brain: it was simply organized by Last name. DAR came before DAS, so on and so forth. 

_ Yes, he had to sing the ABCs every time he got stuck on a letter, but Bev said that is completely normal and Not Funny At All. Richie didn’t believe her.  _

The perhaps questionable efficiency of Two ADHD Adults Racing Each Other At Putting Books Away proved, in fact,  _ very  _ efficient. A bewildered mom and wide-eyed child had been witness to their Duel of Sorts. The mother quickly ushered the child away once they had finished, leading the Grown Goofballs to break into a laughing fit. Once the metaphorical dust had settled and their breath had been caught, they continued on into the juvenile chapter books.

—

They were plopped Criss-Cross-Applesauce on the storytime rug, preparing to put the remaining children’s nonfictions away when the Tall Glass Of Water In Charge (TGOWIC for short) informed them that the courier was here to pick up the holds for other libraries.

Bev scrambled to her feet with this news, Baby Giraffing it all the way up. She immediately began straightening her khakis (fashionably oversized, of course) and dusting them off of carpet fuzz. Richie, unsure of what exactly they were standing for, followed suit in returning to an upright position.

“Quick. How’s my ass look?” she asked, turning for them to judge. Richie bent at the waist ‘til he was perpendicular to her, and stroked his invisible beard in fake thought. He made a noise of approval and looked to Mike standing next to him, who was also stroking an invisible beard. He took it a step further by taking a pair of Very Real Not Fake Imaginary glasses from his pocket, opening them up, and sliding them onto his face in a Very convincing pantomime. He squinted and walked around her for the full experience. After a minute of their silence, Bev  _ ahemed  _ for a final verdict.

“Girl, you’re thicker than a bowl of oatmeal,” Local Lesbian Fashion Mess Richie Tozier concluded. Bev curtsied and then expectantly looked at Mike for his thoughts. 

“Splendid as always Ms. Marsh,” Mike responded, grabbing her hand to twirl her. “But not as nice as Richie’s…” 

“Oh, lil ole me?” His pearls were clutched in faux awe, turning to give them a full view of his cargo shorts derrière.

“Damn right,” Bev replied, with a Firm Slap to Richie’s now wiggling ass. 

Through their giggles, Richie “I dunno, it seems like Mikey here has an ass thicker than  _ War & Peace _ .”

Richie looked at the giggling librarians amidst their dance, letting himself enjoy and participate in Their joy. Bev pulled Richie up by his hands in a swift motion; unbeknownst to many, Librarians are strong as Fuck. Their job is to lift heavy things all day, squatting up and down and Up And Down, etc. TL;DR: Bev is Ripped and so is Mike. 

Richie imagined the sound he made while being dragged through the back rooms was something out of  _ Scooby Doo _ , like a slide whistle. Coming to a halt in the doorway was an out-of-breath Bev, who was failing at being casual while her eyes were Gorilla Glued out the open loading doors. Richie followed her gaze to a Plump Blue-Jeaned Derrière. Attached to the Beautiful Backside was the Most Lumberjack man Richie had ever seen; red plaid shirt? Check. Soft yet scruffy beard? Check. Arms made for hugging and a body made to be napped on? Double check. Kindest eyes you ever did see, a smile that can melt butter, and an ass to kill for? Triple check.

“Hey Mikey! Hey Miss Marsh.” Brawny Paper Towels waved once he noticed their presence, his face lingering on Bev’s pink cheeks. 

“Hi Ben,” they responded in unison, a small smug grin peeking out of Mike’s smile as Bev looked like a poorly-made wax figure acting like a Totally Normal Person. 

Mike, Bev, and Ben chatted idly about today’s pickup of books for transfer, the incoming boxes for their holds, and other Librarian shit Richie didn’t understand and didn’t pretend to. He was more than content to stand there and look pretty. 

Midwest Hunk Ben looked at Richie. who was staring at the concrete where a worm was trying to overcome the metal doorframe, and raised his eyebrows quizzically, but not in a rude way. More of a  _ Who Is This Geek Squad Gonzo _ kinda way.

“Oh, Ben, this is Richie, our new volunteer!” Mike introduced, waving his hands like  _ Ta-Daa!  _ Richie broke his concentration and posed with his hand on his hip, leaning his weight on one leg to pop his ass. 

“Hi,  _ Richie Our New Volunteer _ ! I’m Ben!” He looked very proud of that joke, a goofy grin plastered on his stubbly face “I'm the courier — I pick up and drop off the holds and stuff.” He holds out a hand for the other to shake. Richie shook it.

His voice said, “Nice to meet you Ben.”  _ How can hands hold so much Firmness yet feel like Mr. Clean’s Freshly Waxed And Buttered Head? No fuckin shit Bev’s in love with him — Hell, I’m in love with him now. I want him to sweep me off my feet bridal style ‘n drive off into the sun like they did in Grease. Sir, how do you like your eggs in the morning because you can Scramble mine anytime, sir — _

_ “ _ You just gonna shake his hand all day, Rich?” Mike snickered at their ongoing handshake.

“Oh, shit, yeah, sorry dude, I uh, I don’t normally do that.” 

“I get that a lot.” Ben rubbed the back of his neck to try and clear the blush that had erupted around his ears. His glance flicked to where Bev was watching him and his blush grew pinker. 

“Yeah, you should’ve seen Bev when  _ she —  _ Mike’s comment was interrupted by a firm  _ Smack! _ on his upper arm and the Scariest Glare Richie Had Ever Seen. 

“Michael, I suggest you stop talking lest you wish to keep your kneecaps. I’m sure you don’t want our Dear Richard here to witness such an atrocity on his first day, hm?” Bev whispered through gritted teeth, flashing an apologetic smile at Ben as she shuffled Richie out of the room. He waved bye to the two men before he was yanked so hard his soul left his body.

“He’s cute. I’d let him Load My Crates any day...” Richie stage-whispered to her once they were out of earshot.

“Shut the fuck up,” 

— 

Around lunchtime, Richie sat in the break room, humming the _Muppets_ theme as he worked on the perfect volunteer name badge. The blue block letters were perfectly bedazzled with pink stick-on rhinestones, currently being surrounded by _Star Wars_ , _Thomas the Tank Engine_ , and _My Little Pony_ stickers. What can he say? He’s a man of culture. His nieces would’ve killed him if he never stepped hoof in Equestria, and honestly? The show smacks. The power of friendship is truly one of The Most Important Things In Life. 

“Who would your Pony-Sona be?” Richie asked across the table to one Bev Marsh, slurper of noodles. “I think I’d be Applejack, I like her hat and Can Do attitude.” 

“Hm…”  _ Slurp. “ _ I think I’m Rainbow Dash. Mike is  _ definitely _ Twilight Sparkle.” That last sentence was echoed by the bowl held up to her mouth as she drained the remnants from the styrofoam cup. 

“Without a doubt.” Another tedious sticker placement began; careful hands peeling the back off and then the excruciating hover over the perfect spot, lowering his sausage fingers ever so slightly next to the C3PO.

“You haven’t met him yet but Eddie is probably —” Whatever Rainbow Dash Kinnie Bev was about to say was lost into the void forever due to Sam Eagle’s Disgruntled Frat Boy Human Cousin barging into the break room, causing Richie to knock over his 💕Somebody From Chicago Loves Me💕 mug filled with (previously) hot chocolate all over his Magnum Opus.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> oh its you again.. Hey ,’:)
> 
> id like 2 thank my twitter friends for the Support of my writing and for their enthusiasm ilyasm
> 
> id also like 2 thank my Editor / beta reader bryce (@trashmouth4sale on twitter) for Fixing My Bullshit 
> 
> if u want to follow me on twt my user is @clownhell2 where i share my Thots and Feelings


End file.
